


howling and barking these songs

by smallredboy



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Dogs, Fluff, M/M, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter in Cuba
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:21:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26146312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallredboy/pseuds/smallredboy
Summary: Will misses his dogs while in Cuba with Hannibal, and a miracle comes upon him while out grocery shopping.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 13
Kudos: 121
Collections: Froday Flash Fiction Little & Monthly Specials 2020, Hannibal Bingo





	howling and barking these songs

**Author's Note:**

> **fffc's 100th special:** wishes  
>  **hannibal bingo:** Winston
> 
> title from lincoln's _saint bernard_.
> 
> enjoy!

There are very few things Will doesn't like about being with Hannibal in Cuba.

He's here, finally, having come to terms with who he is, what he wants, and what he will always be. But that doesn't mean he can't miss things from his old life; in fact, most of his nights are spent missing things from his past life. Most notoriously, his dogs.

I miss my dogs, he said once, when he rejected Hannibal so he'd throw himself into jail, heartbroken by being pushed away by his one love. And, well, now he does miss his dogs, even though he has Hannibal with him.

"I miss my dogs," he tells him as he curls up into bed with him. He's always cold, even though the country they're residing in gives them quite a bit of heat most of the year, with maybe a week or two of cold when winter rolls in.

"I'm sure you do," Hannibal replies. He turns around to kiss him on the mouth. "We could adopt a stray, like you used to do. I am sure there's plenty of strays in Havana."

"It won't be the same, though," he says. "It won't ever be the same. I miss Max and Buster and Winston and... and all the rest." He bites back a whimper. He wonders what happened to his dogs— were they put on an adoption site, never to be picked up, tainted by who their part owner was? Were they sold to the highest bidder? Even worse, what if they were euthanized; not because of anything wrong with them, but simply something wrong with their owner. The idea makes him feel sick and dizzy. He hopes they're alright, he hopes that's not it.

"I know, my love," Hannibal says. "But there isn't much we can do about that, now, can we?"

"Mm. I suppose not." He pulls Hannibal into a kiss, and everything is alright for a moment, as much as he misses the sensation of a dog at his feet, or a dog barking and whining to be let up into the bed. He knows Hannibal will let him keep them, too; he would let him do anything. That's something about Hannibal that never fails to amaze him— just how in love with him he is. He'd do anything for him, anything at all. He's sure that if he asked him to stop killing, for them to have a normal life in Havana, he would not doubt for one second. He'd lay down his bloodlust, his hunger for flesh, in one instant if it meant making his beloved happy.

"I love you," Will says. 

"I love you too, Will."

The next day, Will gets up early from a pleasant dream. That's something else he's not used to — pleasant dreams. Cuba has left his nightmares behind, only little moments of happiness, picturesque scenes he wakes up from with a smile. Sometimes sadness hits later, when he realizes he'll never have them; when those moments involve Abigail and he realizes she's dead, six feet underground, never to come back again. The world where all of them live happily ever after simply isn't something that will ever happen.

He can content himself with being with Hannibal, though, killing alongside him, going to the beach in Cuba to fish. It's good enough for him. It should be good enough for him.

He goes out to get the groceries, because that's what they need to do. Hannibal is all too worried about being recognized in the streets of Cuba, as their case has gone international; but he's a little less known. Hannibal's face has been published all over the world; _have you seen this man?_ and whatnot, but Will's hasn't. If anyone is going to be caught because he was walking around Cuba, it wasn't going to be Will.

He's on his way to the farmer's market when he hears the distinct sound of a dog barking. He lights up; dogs are a common occurrence here, of course they are, but he still loves seeing them every time, a little surprise that makes his day a little brighter. He turns and he nearly drops the empty grocery bags he was holding in his hands.

It's Winston. 

Of course, it _can't_ be him, but he looks like him. The same shaggy fur, the same brown eyes looking up at him, the same thick, fluffy tail. He lets out a gasp and rushes toward him, ignoring the grumbles from the other people along the street. His heart leaps when this not-Winston hurries himself toward him as well, front paws prodding at his legs.

"Hey, hey, boy," he says, tears pricking at his eyes. It's like he made a wish to some long forgotten deity and they decided to give him Winston back. He knows it's not him, but if it works, it works. A replacement. A replacement in Cuba of his dog, of the last dog he took in himself before everything in his life unraveled, for better or for worse. "Hey. Stay here, I need to get stuff for you, okay?"

Against his wishes, the dog follows him as he heads to the pet care store he had been looking at longingly since they got to Havana, wondering if he'd ever have a good reason to come in there. There's finally a reason, a shaggy, furry reason to walk in and feel that distinctive animal smell that followed every good pet care store.

He smiles as he buys the things he needs; a collar, a dog bed (which is a similar model to the one he had in Wolf Trap, incredibly enough), brushes, etcetera. He bags all of it except for the collar.

"Hey, boy, stay still for me, okay?"

His name is Winston, even though he could be more creative than that, less nostalgic than that. It's not like Hannibal _won't_ scoff at the name choice. But it works, so it works. Winston lets him put the collar around his neck and he leans in and kisses his forehead. Any worries about fleas or anything of the sort are quickly forgotten, put to the back of his head.

He leads Winston away from the noise of Havana and toward the house they've made a home out of; it's nothing too special, which he's sure pisses Hannibal off. But it works for him; it's pretty nice and pretty comfortable. That's all he needs— his needs are quite different to Hannibal's wants of luxury and aesthetics, however.

"What happened, Will?" Hannibal asks as he opens the door of their home. "Why are you back so early — oh."

Will lights up, his smile wide as ever. "Yes?"

"He looks just like Winston," he says, not stepping back. 

"A little miracle from the universe," he replies. "We have a hose in the backyard, right?"

"Yes," he replies. "We do. Do you want me to come with you?"

"I'd love for you to, but if you don't wanna deal with the water, that's fine too."

"No, no, I ask because I want to come with. Let's go." 

Hannibal follows Will's lead to the backyard. Winston is surprisingly quiet and tame, only sniffing at Hannibal's dress pants and not barking in the least. He'll make a shit guard dog, but that's fine. He doesn't need one, all in all. After a few minutes they get to the backyard and Will gets the hose and a few towels, humming as he turns the hose on.

"Will," Hannibal starts, keeping a distance between himself and the stream of water.

"Yes?" He lets out a quiet laugh as he starts to wash Winston up. "Don't worry, I'm not going to spray you with it."

"I sure hope not," he says. "This suit was rather expensive."

Will rolls his eyes. "You're _so_ prissy, Hannibal."

"You love me."

"That I do. But I will still spray you with this hose if you keep talking about how expensive your suits are."

Hannibal laughs. "You wouldn't."

Will doesn't reply to that and keeps washing Winston. When he's done, he starts drying him off with a towel, and turns the hose off. He's smiling a little, though, and he's sure Hannibal knows that he is, in fact, going to spray him with the hose. But he's still playing along, because he loves him and because he'd do anything for him; including getting sprayed with a hose.

That's love, he guesses. That's what love is about. 

As soon as Winston is mostly dry, he turns the hose back on and sprays Hannibal with it, laughing.

"Will!" he exclaims.

"What?!" He's laughing harder, smiling from ear to ear. When Hannibal's suit is thoroughly soaked, he pulls back and turns the hose off. 

"You're terrible to me, my love," he says.

"Oh, you knew I was going to spray you with it," he replies as he gets up from his position, leaning up to kiss Hannibal on the mouth. "Go clean your clothes off, babe. I'll take care of Winston."

He turns around and yelps when Winston shakes the leftover water off, it all splashing right on his jeans and his flannel button-up.

"Fuck," he breathes out. A laugh leaves his mouth, and Hannibal is laughing, too. "I guess I'll join you."


End file.
